The
bees are now all gone
And
only their fruits remain
Harvest
time nigh upon us
We
must leave summer behind
The
days are growing cooler and
The
dandelions are fading away
Some
trees are already starting
To
dress for their autumn ball
Their
gowns of burgundy and gold
Soon
to drop down to the ground
The
last seagull tries calling summer back
Before
sadly taking wing to go searching
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